


SIXTEEN: BOUNTY ON THEIR HEAD

by roswyrm



Series: AND REMEMBER! BAD THINGS: WILL HAPPEN [7]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bounty Hunters, Captivity, Dragon SLAYERS babie hell yeah, Dragons, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Kinda?, Rescue Missions, Trans Male Character, does it count as a rescue mission if he was the one who put the poor dragon in that jail cell?, sorry bri i didn't know how to properly speedrun it a la taakitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Written for Bri and the Bad Things Happen Bingo!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohallows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/gifts).



> hey. you know what's a good thing? dragon!hamid.

“Do you always follow people out of bars?” Hamid asks without turning around, fussing with the cuffs on his sleeves. Silence, but for the sound of someone adjusting their weight. He turns around and arches his eyebrows. The man following him — barely taller than Hamid himself, carrying a cane, long hair and long beard braided with more care than has been put into the rest of his appearance — glowers. He did that in the tavern, as well. Glowered at the bartender, at the older woman who sat next to him, at Hamid when he captured her attention to give the poor man a break from her incessant chattering. Hamid looks him over and smirks as he continues, “Or should I be _flattered,_ Mr..?”

The man seems amused instead of angry, which is good because he looks like he could easily take a small, immaculately dressed, chubby man in a fight. He probably couldn’t, not if that small, immaculately dressed, chubby man is Hamid, but that would need more explaining than it would be worth. “Smith,” the man says, a quirk to his lips, “and I certainly wasn’t aiming for flattery.”

Hamid hums, takes a step closer, watches as Smith blinks in surprise. “Mr Smith,” Hamid says carefully, rolling the words around on his forked tongue, careful not to hiss them, “a common name for such an… _interesting_ man.” Smith makes a shallow sound of amusement, not quite a laugh, but something close enough. Hamid isn’t stupid; he knew Smith would follow him out when he stepped out into the alley.

“It’s not ‘Mister’, actually.”

Hamid cocks his head. He hazards, “Miss?” and Smith actually laughs at that.

“No,” he says patiently, like Hamid’s missing the punchline to a joke he’s heard a thousand times before. “It’s, uh, it’s actually ‘Slayer’ Smith.” And the words barely register before Hamid’s eyes are widening and his claws slip out of his disguise and Smith (not looking for someone pretty, looking for him specifically, damn it, damn it, _damn it)_ slams the butt of his cane into Hamid’s stomach. Hamid should have noticed the transmutation magic dripping off of it, but it doesn’t matter now, the blow knocking the breath from him and forcing the fire in his lungs to extinguish.

Hamid snarls breathlessly, backing up and finding only cold brick at his back. The dragonslayer white-knuckles his trident, and Hamid wonders if he’s ever killed a dragon before, or if Hamid will be the first name in a very, very long list of bragging rights. Smith doesn’t move, though, standing monolithic in the way of Hamid’s escape back into the streets where someone, anyone, could save him. “There’s a bounty on my head,” Hamid says, because maybe, if he stalls for long enough, he can catch his breath and burn the dragonslayer alive, “you can’t seriously be choking _now.”_ He’s going to keep goading him, something about _collecting his prize,_ when Smith walks forward, calm as anything, and catches his wrists in a bruising Hold. Hamid cries out. 

Smith places a gag in his mouth. “I think you should go ahead and let go of that disguise, now.” Hamid sneers, and the dragonslayer’s magic tightens painfully around him. Hamid gasps in pain, but the gag expands and he can’t _breathe,_ and the scales appear almost as a reflex. The gag readjusts, and Hamid doesn’t know where dragonslayers get their gear, but he’d rather like to burn it to the ground. “You’re lucky Curie wanted you alive,” Smith hisses, and Hamid glares at him with golden eyes and slitted pupils. The dragonslayer tugs him along with a curl of his fingers, the blue Hold yanking him into the sunlight. “Come on. Let me introduce you to my employer.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i was gonna end it here. i was wrong. whoops.

The chimaera gag is back in, and Hamid growls around it. Curie is… _thorough,_ Hamid will give her that; she’s always careful to incapacitate him before trying to _collect samples_ or whatever it is that makes her send in someone to make sure he can’t bite down or breath fire. Curie is thorough, and his ankles and wrists are bound to the floor, and he _snarls._ She merely raises an eyebrow at him. “I outbid Kafka to get you,” she says conversationally, but Hamid can hear the threat underneath it, “do you know what he would have done with a brass dragon?” Hamid, gagged, doesn’t answer her. (Hamid, gagged, doesn’t explain that he knows exactly what Kafka would do with a brass dragon because he was forced to watch, frozen, as he killed one. Quickly, at least. Aziza didn’t even have time to scream.) Smith watches, arms crossed. Curie is thorough, and then she leaves, and Smith is the one who undoes his bonds.

Hamid’s given up on fighting him. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, and all that that entails. Curie’s shoes have finished clicking on the hardwood floor when Smith murmurs, “You’re more intelligent than they said you’d be.” Hamid glares. But Smith isn’t looking at him, and the way his mouth twists as he unlocks the enchanted chains makes it clear that this isn’t an insult. “I thought you’d be more temperamental. Like a… I dunno, elemental. Firestorm in a cage.” The last of the shackles drops to the floor, and Smith looks him in the face. Hamid can see his own burning gold eyes reflecting in the dragonslayer’s pupils. “But you’re not that, are you?” Hamid has been alive for a little over two centuries. He knows when someone is genuine. 

The chimaera gag shrinks, and Hamid cracks his jaw as the bubble of lead drops to the floor. **“No,”** he says quietly, and no matter how comfortable he is in his softer form, they’ve made it clear that he’s not allowed to shift from this. Smith looks at him, almost confused, and Hamid murmurs, **“I don’t think I ever heard your given name.”**

“I don’t think you ever will.” Hamid huffs in understanding, taking a step back, ready to curl into himself and sleep until the next time Smith comes with food. He isn’t fed enough, though he suspects that’s another of Curie’s experiments. “My, uh—” Hamid blinks at him— “my _chosen_ name is Zolf, though. You can have that one.” There’s a look on the dragonslayer’s face like he’s begging Hamid not to make him regret trusting him. Like he’s begging to be proven right. Smiling is difficult because Hamid does _not_ have any lips and _does_ have an excess of sharp teeth, but he thinks he manages it; Zolf barely even recoils from him. “Do you have a name?” Zolf asks as if this is the first time it’s occurring to him. Maybe it is.

There’s not a lot of space between Zolf and the door, and Hamid thinks that maybe, if he can keep the dragonslayer distracted, he can slip past him to freedom. **“I have a lot of names,”** Hamid muses, taking another step back and sitting on his haunches so that he can tick them off on his claws. **“Scourge of Cairo – that should have been given to my younger brothers, honestly – Glasser of the Damascan Fields – I didn’t do that, of course, that was my great-grandfather – some people even call me the Infernal Devourer, but really, it’s not my fault I have a big appetite.”** Zolf looks amused, if still guarded, and Hamid cocks his head conversationally.

Zolf takes a step back toward the door, cane bracing him, and says, “I know your titles. Bounty on your head, remember? I asked if you had a _name.”_

Oh, he’s _clever._ Hamid can’t remember the last time someone caught him out on that, and it’s more than enough to make him smile. **“Hamid,”** he answers, before quickly adding, **“Saleh Haroun al-Tahan, technically, but I don’t expect to be called by my full name. Especially not by a dragonslayer.”**

Zolf nods, like everything is just as he suspected, and turns to leave. “Nice to talk to you, Hamid,” he says on his way out, and Hamid just sits where he is and watches. It’s not like he can do anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno why this is a thing i can write, folks! simply do not know it

A key turns, and Hamid doesn’t even bother to lift his head. “Uh,” stammers the guard posted outside of his cage, “Slayer, you can’t just—”

“Wing samples,” Zolf interrupts, stepping forward and holding out the chimaera gag. Hamid resists the urge to cock his head (Zolf’s come back before now, taken on a shift as guard and sat with Hamid. Talked with him. Answering Hamid’s questions in between asking some of his own, calling them friends, even. The gag hasn’t been used for months) and instead just takes it, feeling the lead ball settle against the back of his tongue as Zolf starts unlocking his manacles. (It doesn’t immediately expand to block off any speech. He doesn’t point it out where the guard can see him.) There’s more stammering, something like a protest about Curie’s absence, but Zolf looks up from Hamid’s front claw with a glare so cold it could freeze a volcano. “Curie’s busy, so she sent me. Unless you want to go and interrupt her studies by questioning if your superior, who is more trusted and more capable with dragons than you could ever be, is actually supposed to be collecting more samples for her?” The guard falls quiet. The manacle clanks to the ground, and Zolf tugs sharply at the iron collar around Hamid’s neck, pulling him outside of the cage he’s been trapped in for far too long. “Didn’t think so,” Zolf grumbles, and the guard cowers back from him.

More protests are raised when Zolf starts leading Hamid out of the cell.

Hamid has to work harder than he ever has to keep himself from dashing out into freedom, guard or no.

“It’s _in the name,_ Oliver,” Zolf snaps. “It’s my _job._ What am I going to do? Turn my back on generations of tradition, not to mention one of the most powerful women in the world, and be stupid enough to accidentally release a dragon?” Oliver has the decency to look abashed. Hamid keeps his head down so neither of them can see the plan already forming behind his eyes. They walk out together, and Hamid has long since memorised the direction of the hallways, so he figures out that they’re not even going outside pretty quickly. Zolf is overconfident, that’s good, Hamid can use that—

They walk into a side hallway and Hamid is just about to whirl, to try and get the dragonslayer off-balance, when Zolf drops the lead and says, “Put your disguise back on. Now.” Hamid freezes. He looks up at the slayer, who just gestures like _‘come on, then.’_ Zolf stares politely at a corner of the ceiling as Hamid’s scales press back into soft skin and his snout shortens and flattens into his usual handsome, human face. “Here,” Zolf grumbles, holding out his coat for Hamid to put on. It’s too big, but it’s warm and soft, which is nicer than anything Hamid has gotten for the past month. “Can you run?”

Hamid stares at him. “Yes, I can– _what?”_ Zolf flattens his face into something utterly flat and neutral, something Hamid hasn’t seen for weeks, and wraps an arm around his shoulders before beginning to lead him down the hallway.

Hamid’s bare feet catch and stumble over the cobblestones, but Zolf keeps him going. “We’re gonna get some fresh air, alright?” They get out two more steps before Hamid can find the spark in his sternum catching, flickering into something brighter than before. He tugs the coat tighter around his current fragile form, willing the illusion of a shirt and trousers on underneath it so he won’t seem quite so out of place.

Three steps, and Hamid is smiling.

Four, Zolf squeezes his shoulder.

Five, and Hamid dares to whisper, “Is this a jailbreak?” Zolf doesn’t respond, just walks them that much quicker, and Hamid bites back on a slightly hysterical laugh. It’ll feel good to see the sky again. To see his breath come out as steam, just like any other human’s, to smile without taking care to keep his teeth dull. Fresh air. Fresh start. Somewhere far from here, probably, so Curie can’t find him again, but– he’ll have to send his family a letter, explaining why he can’t visit them until he’s certain no one is following him, and—

The planning lasts until six more paces to the door, when Zolf stops walking and leans down to reach an arm behind Hamid’s knees and scoop him up. Hamid squawks indignantly, his hands sharpening into talons as he rears back as far as he can to scratch at the dragonslayer’s face. “Just trust me!” Zolf hisses, and Hamid hisses back at him, the anger and fear forking his tongue as the sound leaves him. “Just– look, hide your face and make your hands human, alright? Pretend you’re passed out. Hurry it up.” Hamid glowers, but he closes his eyes and presses his face into Zolf’s shoulder, folding his still-sharp claws together under the thick cloth of the coat.

“Slayer,” says a guard, acknowledging. A little closer, a little more smug, “Did the dragon scare him so much he fainted?” Hamid fights down the urge to bristle, and when Zolf laughs, he subtly presses the point of a claw against the slayer’s chest as a warning.

“Dragons are scary,” Zolf says with a grin, “I can hardly blame him.” The guard gives a shudder of agreement, and Hamid wants to glass this entire facility, but he stays frozen against the dragonslayer’s side so he can get out. Zolf starts walking again, and Hamid waits for the guard to call out, and for something to go wrong, but then he’s being set down on his feet, and a carriage door is being opened, and Zolf is helping him inside.

Zolf gets in across from him, and the carriage starts rolling with a tap of his heel against the floor. Hamid looks out the window. “Is that– is that it? Am I out?”

Zolf laughs. “Uh, no. You’re stuck with me, for the time being. Probably as much on my head as there is on yours, after that little stunt.” Hamid looks him over, and then starts buttoning the slayer’s coat.

“Well,” says Hamid, grabbing the trident, opening the window, and then throwing the symbol of Dragonslaying allegiance onto the road, “first of all, we’re buying new clothes. For me, because Curie _took mine,_ very rude of her, and for you, because _that—”_ pointing at Zolf’s shirt and breeches— “is a disaster at best.” Zolf glares at him, but he doesn’t say anything, so Hamid takes the opportunity to expand on the _very_ long laundry list of things that need to be done, such as a proper bath, for one thing, and a non-weapon cane for Zolf, probably, and maybe some fake papers. 

(Hamid spares a moment to think about Curie’s precaution to never let him out without someone guarding him nearby, the experiments she was running, and Zolf’s general surly manner that has almost certainly netted him more than a few enemies.)

Definitely some fake papers.

**Author's Note:**

> i am still accepting prompts!!!! feel free to send more, just expect a long wait, as i'm currently going through a bit of a creative hibernation. my tumblr is @roswyrm and my bad things happen bingo card is [HERE!!](https://roswyrm.tumblr.com/post/185920586016/image-id-a-bad-things-happen-bingo-game) ily!!!


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